


Pureblood/Mudblood

by theescapist99



Series: Blood [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is a bitch, Post-Movie(s), blood play almost, credence angst, lots of blood, maybe ill make a sequel to this, tempermental percival graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9779384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theescapist99/pseuds/theescapist99
Summary: Percival Graves stays home to see what Credence does all day.He finds out Credence is a morning person, doesn't eat a heavy breakfast -- oh, and apparently he cuts himself on a daily basis.How in Gods name is he supposed to handle this?





	

 

The first time Percival noticed the blood -- a microscopic puddle on the kitchen counter -- he figured it probably came from himself.

Considering how much action and violence he encountered on a regular basis, it wasn’t _that_ unusual that he might let a drop slip here or there. Although it was rather odd; he didn’t remember getting injured to the point of bleeding anytime as of recently.

But then he started noticing blood popping up more frequently – spots on the floor, smears on the furniture.

Dark, crimson – _fresh._

Either someone was pulling a very bad joke, or someone in this house was bleeding – and he was pretty sure it wasn’t him.

Which left only one other possibility:

Credence.

Credence had been living in his home temporarily, until he could get on his feet after the whole mess with Grindlewald. He wasn’t fond of sharing his living space with anyone else, let alone this kid he barely knew – but it was either that or a jail cell, the fate Serphina had preferred.

_“I’ll make sure the kid stays out of trouble.” Percival had promised her._

_“Why?” Seraphina has asked._

_And Percival had only shrugged. He wasn’t really sure what motivated him to take in his ward, although he was smart enough to know that his misplaced guilt was not irrelevant._

So one day, Percival ventured to ask Credence over dinner:

“Credence…why have I been seeing blood stains everywhere? Would you know anything about that?”

Credence, who had been shoveling in a spoonful of soup, actually choked. His expression became extremely flustered, and his eyes went in about a hundred directions before he said, “N--- no.”

Percival didn’t press further – while Credence had verbally denied it, his body language told him everything he needed to know.

You didn’t get to be top Auror without being good at spotting a liar.

 _So_ , he supposed, _we’ll have to do things the hard way._

A couple days later, Percival took a sick day from work. But he kept to himself, hiding away in his own bedroom, letting Credence believe he had left like usual. He lay back in his bed, opened up a book to read, and simply waited.

It didn’t take long before he could hear the sounds of Credence waking, his shuffling gait scurrying throughout his own bedroom -- perhaps an hour, maybe less.

 _So he’s an early bird then_ , Percival mused.

More shuffling.

Percival wasn’t even really sure what he was listening for. He rarely ever stayed home, so he really had no idea what the kid _did_ all day – and it’s not like Credence was much for chit chat. (And thank god he wasn’t – because neither was Percival.)

But he was somewhat curious to find out, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

It was rather uneventful for a while.

At one point, he heard Credence go downstairs. Percival opened his own door slightly and peered out to see that Credence appeared to merely be getting breakfast. He walked back up to his room with some toast, a knife, and a few cuts of butter.

Percival wondered to himself if he should start picking up some better breakfast foods for the pantry. Lord knows the kid could do with gaining some actual weight. But he could have _sworn_ he had more than just the ingredients for buttered toast downstairs. It was possible, he supposed, that Credence merely opted for this scant meal and called it breakfast.

Percival made a mental note to recheck the supplies later.

Nothing for another hour or so.

And then – and then he heard…grunting?

_Was that grunting?_

There was an odd noise between half a grunt and half a yelp coming from Credence’s room – _repeatedly_.

Whatever he was waiting for, Percival thought, appeared to be happening now.

He put down his book, took off his reading glasses, and made his way towards Credence’s bedroom.

The grunting was still continuing by the time he reached the door. He would normally knock, but the whole point of this was to catch Credence in the act of --- whatever the hell he was doing. He tried to be stealthy as he turned Credence’s knob, opening the door gently.

The door was ajar just enough for him to see. Credence was sitting on his bed, and had right arm outstretched. With his left hand, he was digging the knife from his breakfast into his porcelain white skin, the incision marred red with what looked to be a waterfall of blood.

That waterfall of blood cascaded down into a yellow bowl on the floor, directly underneath where he held his arm. It was the ocean of blood that the waterfall resulted in, the bowl over halfway full.

Any concept of stealth forgotten, Percival burst into the room screaming, “What in God’s name are you doing, boy?!?”

Credence made an inhuman noise, jumping out in surprise, and tried to throw the knife behind him.

Percival grabbed the arm he had been cutting, trying to remember every healing spell he knew by heart that might not maim the boy.

“No!” Credence yelled louder than Percival could ever remember him speaking, “Don’t touch it!”

“Don’t touch what?” Percival asked.

“The blood.” Credence answered with more control in his voice, but his chest was heaving. His eyes were bloodshot. It was a rather frightening sight.

Percival just stared at him, confused, baffled, and at a loss for words.

“It’s dirty.” Credence elaborated further, stating this like it was the most obvious thing in the world. But to Percival, that answered _absolutely_ nothing.

“ _What does that even_ _mean_?” Percival asked.

Credence frowned, like he was the one who was confused now. Percival still had his right arm in his grip, but Credence had started to pull it away.

Percival wasn’t allowing him too.

“My blood, its dirty blood.” Credence went on when he saw that Percival wasn’t going to give up and just leave, “My ma’ – she always would cut me, you know, bloodletting – to get the dirty out. Since she’s gone and all…well, this is just how I do it. Once a day.”

Credence’s face seemed devoid of emotion as he said it. Percival realized that he did not seem to grasp the implications of his own explanation. He was stating it as though explaining why he needed to brush his teeth.

Percival, on the other hand, had to close his eyes for a moment, to steady himself.

A flurry of emotions overtook him, but most of all: _rage_. He had to fight the urge to hit something, all while yelling at Credence that his mother was a cunt who knew nothing about _anything_.

The whole point of taking this kid in was to get him _away_ from his former life.

And here he finds out that he’s just –

Percival took a deep breath. He knew it wasn’t Credence’s fault.

These were the things he honestly believed.

_Good god, what Percival gotten himself into?_

He was not the comforting type, and he knew it, so Percival started just by stating the obvious.

“Your blood is not dirty, Credence, that’s not even possible.”

He whipped out his wand, working on the first gash, which was still deep and oozing. It was on his forearm – there were two more just behind it. They were clumsily made and not at all straight.

Percival wondered how these could have slipped his noticed, but remembered Credence’s love for turtleneck sweaters. He wondered where _else_ the boy might be cutting himself.

“Yes it is,” Credence had already begun arguing, “Ma said ---“

“Credence.”

“—what?”

“With all due respect, if you tell me _one_ more thing your Ma said, I am going to find a time turner, go back in time, and slit her throat _myself_.”

He wasn’t even sure that Credence understood the details of that statement, but it seemed to shut him up anyway, his eyes growing wide.

On to the second gash.

“You – you really shouldn’t touch…” Credence spoke up again, and Percival sighed.

He then grabbed Credence’s bleeding arm at a new angle position his hand at the wrist, and just – _licked_ a good portion of the blood off of the kid’s arm.

Credence screamed again, his face aghast.

Percival just stared at him for a second, his eyebrows high. Then he leaned in close, closer than he had ever been to Credence’s face.

He was so close he could feel the boy’s breath hit his face -- warm and moist. He licked his lips, tasting the iron flavor.

Suddenly, he felt tempted to lick off more.

But Credence already looked extremely startled and somewhat afraid.

Percival figured he had gotten the message for now.

“You are _not_ dirty.” Percival growled, not backing away and still with a firm grip on Credence’s wrist, “Nothing about you is dirty. In fact, you are one of the most pure, gorgeous things out there. _Do you understand me_?”

Credence gaped comically for a moment before answering, “Ye – yes, Mr. Graves.”

Percival nodded curtly. “Good.”

He backed away, and was able to resume closing the wounds in silence. Credence wouldn’t look at him for the rest of the time, but he didn’t force him to.

When he was done, Percival picked up the blood filled bowl on the floor and looked at it distastefully.

“Don’t let me catch you doing this again.”

He didn’t wait for Credence to answer and he left, heading straight into the kitchen and tossing the bowl in the sink. As the crimson ocean drained away, Percival grabbed the sides of the sink and bowed his head, trying to regain composure once more.

He licked his lips a second time, the taste of Credence’s blood still strong on his tongue. The metallic stench from the discarded bowl flooded his nostrils. His senses were overpowered by nothing but _blood_.

He felt thirsty.

As he went back to his bedroom, hearing the soft sound of sobs as he passed by Credence’s door, Percival could not help but wonder if there was a chance he might seriously get hold of that time turner.

 

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me at http://phantasmiicparade.tumblr.com/


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